


it seems like forever, it seems like an age

by simply_kelp



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, ash is so old and weary but he's still 10, ho-oh theory, idk if that's what it's called
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24461536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simply_kelp/pseuds/simply_kelp
Summary: He remembers the rainbow from that morning long ago and the Pokémon flying into it. Ash strokes the fur on Pikachu’s forehead.I wish, he’d thought. But he lets the morning light chase the thought from his mind. Pikachu mewls in his sleep and stretches. Ash feels affection tugging the corners of his lips upward. It’s been just him and Pikachu for as long as he can remember.
Relationships: Ookido Shigeru | Gary Oak/Satoshi | Ash Ketchum
Comments: 2
Kudos: 92





	it seems like forever, it seems like an age

Ash often dreams of that night and the sunny spring morning that followed. The rain beating down on them, mud sucking at his sneakers, his clothes soaked through and sticking to his skin. He dreams of the flock of Spearow surrounding him and of Pikachu flying through the air to his defense. He dreams of the thundershock so huge it lit up the night’s sky. And in the morning he opens his eyes and watches Pikachu’s sleeping form curled up next to him.

He remembers the rainbow from that morning long ago and the Pokémon flying into it. Ash strokes the fur on Pikachu’s forehead. _I wish_ , he’d thought. But he lets the morning light chase the thought from his mind. Pikachu mewls in his sleep and stretches. Ash feels affection tugging the corners of his lips upward. It’s been just him and Pikachu for as long as he can remember.

They’re travelling through Sinnoh again, taking the long way back to Kanto. Ash shivers, wonders if he’ll see Dawn and Empoleon again. He rises, stretches and rubs his hands along his forearms, thinks maybe he will see Gary again. The last time had been at Professor Oak’s lab. Gary had been different, quieter, taller. He’d laughed when Ash suggested a Pokémon battle.

_There’s something I always…_ Gary had said after the battle, his Pokémon recalled and Pikachu curled up next to Umbreon in the midday sun. There were flecks of silver in Umbreon’s coat and the black seemed duller than Ash had remembered. Gary paused, eyes reflecting something like sadness that Ash couldn’t place. _Could I…?_ Curious, Ash had nodded.

Gary’s hand had come up to rest at Ash’s cheek. His fingers were cool, calloused from days out in the field. It was… nice. Ash had unconsciously leaned into the touch. There was something… something he couldn’t quite grasp but it was as if he were standing at the precipice, as if everything were just seconds away from slotting into place. The kiss was over before he could think to react, just a feather-light touch of Gary’s lips to his, but Ash’s heart was racing. Gary had fixed him with that strange look again and Ash felt whatever it was that he had almost found slip through his grasp. Gary bit his lip, voice thick has he’d said _Smell you later, Ashy-boy_.

He visits Lavender Town often when he’s in Kanto. Sometimes it’s the only place he stops, trekking through the paths leading from Saffron and Vermillion. He spends days, weeks (he loses track of time easily), he may as well live there. He and Pikachu collect flowers along the hillsides and carry them to the Soul House. There’s a portrait of Mr. Fuji and Cubone near the entrance. Ash always leaves a few flowers there. Mr. Fuji’s grandson is kind. He lets Ash and Pikachu go to the lower levels and lay their flowers on the graves below.

He passes through towns turned to cities, forests turned to suburbs. There are less wild Pokémon in the world now, he thinks. He sees a young girl with bright red hair and a Horsea splashing in the fountain outside the Cerulean Gym. Her mother’s the gym leader, she tells him, would he like to battle? _I’m Misty, after my grandmother_.

They’re camped just outside Pallet. If he strains his ears he might be able to hear the sound of his thirty Tauros. No, he thinks, they aren’t there anymore, haven’t been at Professor Oak’s lab for a long time. Professor Oak hasn’t been at his lab for a long time either. Ash gathers Pikachu in his arms and ascends the hill. There are the fences of the preserve down below, and there’s the one Professor Oak made him rebuild. Dotted along the fields and ponds are Pokémon from all over the world. How many of them are his again?

And there, further along, is his house. Though it isn’t his anymore, is it? There’s a letter in his pocket, white creases bisecting it from how many times he’s taken it out and reread it. _If you can make it back for the funeral…_ The memory of the last time he saw his mother returns unbidden: paper-thin skin hanging in deep wrinkles, eyes clouded, her hair mostly silver. She’d had tears in her eyes when she whispered his name, called him a ghost. A lump rises to Ash’s throat. He draws Pikachu closer to him. Pikachu mutters a low _pika_ and licks his chin.

He’d tried to sign up for the Indigo League again. Not that he wanted… but it was something. Something to distract him from the slow trickle of time. _Is this a joke?_ The woman asked. _Did you find these in your attic? We haven’t done physical badges in thirty years._

_What do you say, Pikachu?_ He’d tried to fill the question with the same enthusiasm he once knew, recognized the shape and sound of it, the challenge that once drove him. But the words were hollow. Pikachu hopped onto his shoulder, managed a half-hearted _pikachu_. That’s what led them back to Pallet Town.

Tracey’s in the lab, two Azurill playing at his feet. They chatter a cheery greeting to Pikachu. Were it not for the headband holding back Tracey’s hair, Ash doesn’t know if he would believe he’s really the same boy who followed Ash and Misty around the Orange Islands. He’s taller—everyone seems to have grown taller than Ash—and broader, his skin tanned from days spent outside feeding and caring for the hundreds of Pokémon living at Oak’s lab. When he smiles at Ash there are lines around his eyes.

He calls Ash his favorite trainer. No one’s ever brought back as many species of Pokémon from different regions to study. There’s a plain silver ring on the third finger of Tracey’s left hand. Ash still remembers the shock he felt the first time he registered it. He tries to ignore the glare from the metal, tries to pretend for just a few moments that the world isn’t moving on without him.

Gary, Tracey tells him, is in the marsh, making sure the Squirtles are ready for the new batch of trainers. _Five kids this year_ , he says. He opens his mouth again, but swallows down the words. Ash doesn’t press him. He remembers the little girl tramping around the preserve, sketchbook in hand and pencil behind her ear. How long ago was that?

Ash pauses at the door to the preserve. He imagines seeing Gary again, isn’t sure whether it would hurt more to see a ring (plain or otherwise) on the third finger of Gary’s left hand or to see it bare. He doesn’t know if he wants to do this—to himself or to Gary. His hand hovers over the door handle. Tracey’s eyes are on his computer now, Ash could so easily slip back out the front door, pretend he’d never come back. If he could just…

Pikachu presses a paw to Ash’s leg. His eyes are old but his fur is still glossy. For as long as Ash can remember it’s been just the two of them. He wonders if Pikachu blames him, doesn’t know if he could live if Pikachu hated him. Ash turns the handle and steps outside, Pikachu behind him. He scans the sky as he always does, looks for the Pokémon he saw all those years ago. Eternal happiness, the dancers in the Ecruteak theater had told him. Ash doesn’t think he knows the meaning of the words.

_I wish we could do this forever_

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this a million years ago and decided to throw it up here because w/e...
> 
> title from "various storms and saints" by Florence + the Machine


End file.
